and the rest

The fake fabric flower, stuck through the
Ribs of my
Air conditioning unit, dust-coated in thick layers;
Not once have i even
Since seen the thing, its color now irrelevant.
In the shadows of a golden hour,
Each color in it’s dull tone, of the
Near-dead vines of poison
Climbing up rusty chicken wire, and
Even now, the mud could’ve been bronze.

Out of postage stamps again, they were
My father’s stamps, the
Irritating same-old flag ones, but
They get the job done well enough. coarse hair
Through a fine-toothed purple comb – do you
Even use shampoo? – and eyes of a child who
Died, but

Nobody knows when did you grow up?
Eloping age now, a quicker wedding, more like
“Give me the opal ring already,
Let’s get out of here,” but where? out here? do you
Even use shampoo? somehow scrawling in
Creases of notepad paper is easier than drafting
Text messages that aren’t ever seen. nevermind,
Efface them. i never wrote you, burn it all,
Delete every electronic memory of myself.

Better? better, no. pink and white. fabric floral.
Under the unit, the flower. stemless. stuck now.
Right near the upside-down post-its, the
Infinity charm on a chain, my medicine and
Especially the grammar book. dig me a ditch.
Do you know how to start a fire?

ABOUT

Deetzy is an asexual multi-hobbyist who has been diagnosed with depression, major anxiety, and AuDHD. Though when she first found out about these terms, she was wholeheartedly opposed to aligning with them. She was taught that her problems weren’t as bad as they could be, therefore invalid. She was often brushed aside and told that nothing she dealt with was a big deal from people she should’ve been able to look up to. So she turned to writing as a form of trying to figure out her mind and the very confusing world around her.